Rocks
by Emmeebee
Summary: Brock reflects on his experiences on Valencia Island with Professor Ivy.


A/N: Oh my goodness. I'm about a third of the way through the Orange Islands series, and I was going to avoid spoilers on the reason for Brock's severe reaction to Ivy until I finished the story arc, but I broke and ended up looking it up. And I stumbled across all of the fan theories. I'm just glad I wrote this beforehand; I love how crazy some of them are, but I don't think I would have finished this if I'd read them first…

* * *

Brock's stomach clenched. It felt like hundreds of little stones and rocks had settled into it, weighing him down and holding him back. Every time he thought about the professor, his heart revolted against him, sending crippling pain through him and drawing his attention away from anything else he might have been doing at the time. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to rid himself of the load. They stayed with him like a constant burden, making it impossible for him to leave it all behind. He couldn't outrun the pain, and he didn't know how to overcome it, either.

In his mind, each person and Pokémon was beautiful in their own way, so he found something attractive about every girl he came across. That didn't always equate to romantic interest, but it often did. And, when it did, he fell hard and fast. As far as he was aware, he had never properly moved on from a crush yet. But Felina had been the first person to reciprocate those feelings, to fancy and value him like he fancied and valued her. Everything had seemed perfect, like their stars had aligned in a brilliant display of good fortune and bright futures. He hadn't admitted it to her, but he had been convinced that it was going to last forever.

But then she had left him, shattering that dream in one fell swoop. She'd told him that he was too attached to her and that their relationship was distracting them from their work, deciding that their relationship should be professional only.

The hardest thing was that he understood completely. They _had_ been getting distracted, and he _did_ like her more than she liked him. Everything she had said was correct and was, conceivably, in their best interests. If she'd been selfish or vindictive, he might have been able to use that to get over her, although, honestly, the part of him that still clung to every crush he'd ever had suggested that he still would have been unsuccessful. As it was, however, there wasn't even the slightest chance of using her words to somehow drain his interest in her. It just made her seem all the more perceptive and caring – all the more perfect – and it made him love her even more.

He respected that she wanted emotional distance, but he hadn't been capable of giving her that while still working with her. It would have been too painful to stay by her side while retaining only a strictly professional relationship. So he'd decided to leave. With no way of knowing exactly where Ash and Misty were or where they were headed, he'd chosen to go to the one place he'd known they would have to return to eventually.

Pallet Town. The town where Ash had grown up.

He had stopped in at the Cerulean Gym on the way, asking Misty's sisters to let her know he was looking for them if they came across her first, before heading further south. But he had reached it in the middle of the night, and it was too small of a town to have any inns, so he had gone to sleep on a comfortable patch of grass instead.

And that was where Delia Ketchum found him the next morning. Ash hadn't been home for a home, but she had welcomed him with open arms once she'd realised that he'd helped to look after her son throughout his journey. Housekeeping for her wasn't the same as travelling with his friends, but it was natural and soothing for him, so he had thrown himself into it with gusto.

And then, finally, they had returned. And he had gone with them, feeling instantly at home again in their presence.

He knew they were worried about him, that they itched for an explanation about his time on Valencia Island. Part of him wanted them to know, just to assuage their concerns and stop them from mentioning her in everyday conversation. But he didn't want their pity, and he wasn't even capable of talking about it anyway; the mere sound of her name sent crippling waves of sadness crashing through him, and it would be even harder to get through the explanation they wanted.

So, instead of confiding in them, he continued to suffer in silence. His heart revolted at regular and predictable intervals. The stones and rocks continued to drag him down. And, despite knowing that it was for the best, he kept missing her.

Unrelentingly.


End file.
